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We're fukced anyway. It's not like they can make this any worse.- SCAMPS

The Nemesis

Gentlemen, ladies, robots, insignificant piles of shit: Welcome to the Nemesis. ...or what's left of it, anyway. Try to ignore the flickering of the lights and the fighters flying overhead. It's not going to change anytime soon.

I'm sure you all have questions - what's going on, where am I, where's my mommy, etc. At the risk of sounding crass... Your mommy's dead, kids. She's been dead for decades, and you've been asleep for almost a century. Apparently, up-top had us testing state-of-the-art cryo tech. We actually didn't even know you existed until yesterday. Seems you were hooked to a backup generator. We almost took it offline, but noticed a power drain and decided to check it out. And then, of course... we found you. Welcome back to reality, such that it is. Life's a real bitch, right? We're banking everything on the hope that you're more of one.

Before you ask, we couldn't wake all of you up at once - and, as you can see by the doctors wheeling corpses out of the room, and the gentleman having a seizure in the corner... not all of you survived us taking you out. It's not a simple affair, and we didn't have instructions. Some of you didn't make it. I'm sure it was no major loss - we have almost a hundred cryotubes back there total anyway. The main issue is how much power it takes just to wake you up safely, so at the moment, we're keeping the cryo-man count capped at ten. And why do we want you? That's pretty simple.

The docs tell me that the machines you were hooked up to had you running combat sims through your heads every few months for however many years you were there. Assuming any of it actually stuck, you have an immense potential for combat capability - which is precisely what we need right now. Don't let it go to your heads, though, assholes. Your muscles have atrophied and you'll be suffering the effects of post-cryo for weeks. I'd say to get comfortable, but that's about as likely to happen as you growing a second brain cell. We've given you what meds we can spare, and your muscles are rebuilding themselves. Probably. You're gonna be sore enough to kill a fukcer tonight.

So, what do you do now? That's a good question - and the last one I'm likely to answer. There's ten of you, but only one of me. I've got more important things to do than babysit. Talk to the docs if you want, but after that, get to know the ship. If you're half as good as we're hoping you are, you'll be here for a while. Some places are off-limits: the inner armory, weapons systems, storage areas, and generally anywhere marked off with hazard tape. There's a lot of it, so keep an eye out. After that, you've got full run of the ship. We don't have a place to hold you, and honestly, keeping you chained up is incredibly low on our priority list.

A few of our engineers are busy in the hangar with your CASKETs. We're going to send you out REKT-style. We already have a squad of real REKT soldiers up top defending what's left of this metal crapbox, so you'll do the lower priority missions for us. Eventually I'll call you all to the conference room and give you a mission briefing. Until then, if you have questions, ask around, but keep in mind everybody is as busy as I am. The docs in here haven't slept for a few days, and our engineers are working solid hours, but I'm sure you can find someone else to pester - even if it's just each other.

The bunks
They're a smoking pile of shit right now. Actually, part of them got blasted away during the Battle of Nanyej, some of them depressurized, and some of them got crushed beyond repair during our crash-landing. Still, if you need some sleep or you're feeling sick, head in that direction. It's in the bow of the ship, toward the bottom decks. You can't miss it.

Security: NoneLocation: Just in front of the hangars, bottom of the ship, partly in the dirt.Damage: Moderate to severe.Repair: Needs a hell of a lot of rebuilding.People of interest:

"The Cleaner" Mama Lydia

The mess hall
If you're feeling hungry, this is probably where you want to head. The tables got thrown around pretty bad when we landed, and most of our cooking equipment is offline, but if you assholes want to pitch in and clean it up, be my guest. Not sure of where to find it? Head toward the front of the ship and follow the smells of dried rations, dissatisfaction and angst. You'll find it in no time. And yes, I did say rations. Those of you wanting a nice meal will have to suck it up like everybody else. Rations aren't that bad anyway... or so say the folks that sold them to us.

Security: NoneLocation: Near the very front of the ship, in the central decksDamage: Tables got thrown around, as did the cooking appliances.Repair: Just needs a little TLC.People of interest:

Brenna Melvin, Chief Culinary Officer

The hangar
Best to get acquainted with this one early, because you're going to be seeing it like you're in a steady relationship. Head there if you want, chat with the engineers, tell them to fix up your ships how you want them if you want anything changed. They'll get it done as fast as they can. Be aware that their time is limited and precious, so we're working on a credit system like the Tartarus does... but out of necessity. And don't bother trying to fly your ships out early. I'm keeping them locked down until I'm ready to send you out.

Security: LowLocation: In the middle of the ship, right at the bottom. The launch tube goes out through the bow.Damage: Everything came loose and got thrown around. Most CASKETs are damaged or destroyed. The ones in best conditions got sent out with what's left of our REKT platoon.Repair: The armory itself is built like a rock. Totally fine. It's just the fighters that need work.People of interest:

Chief Hangar Control Officer

Chief Mod Installation Officer

Chief Fighter Repair Officer

The armory
Being the criminals you are, I find you most likely to head straight for the armory, to try to acquire what weaponry you can. This is inadvisable. There is a decent amount of security in the armory, and while the staff there - primarily Dennis Hoffman - may be willing to grant you requests for certain free infantry items, weapons are almost a guaranteed no-go unless you can present a particularly compelling case. It may sound like a fun place to hang out, but your time is better spent elsewhere unless you're seeking information about REKT gear.

Security: HighLocation: Top of the ship, just in front of the hangar, and just behind the labs.Damage: Extreme. The top floors were obliterated. There's nothing you can do to help.Repair: It needs restocked, and the upper floors need to be completely reconstructed.People of interest:

Dennis Hoffman, Chief Armory Officer

Ship stores
Like any vessel, the Nemesis boasts some decent supply/storage areas - which are, for the most part, completely off-limits to you. Don't take it personally. They're off-limits to most crew members, as a point of fact. We don't want anybody's miserably grubby hands to mess up our sorting methods and careful categorization. Obviously, even this doesn't make it careful enough, or we would've known you were on board. If you want something, head to the chief supply officer, but expect to have to wait in line.

Security: ModerateLocation: Scattered about the ship, typically towards the upper decks. The Chief Supply Officer has his own little office near the battle bridge. Just look for the line stretching out into the hall.Damage: Some are, some aren't. Most hull breaches have already been sealed.Repair: Really, they just need restocked. We're using a lot of supplies to try to get this junk pile running again.People of interest:

Chief Supply Officer

The battle bridge
If I said the Hangar was built like a rock, the Battle Bridge is built even better, with walls thicker than your skulls. It took the least damage of the entire ship - as was intended. Spanning several decks with overlooks all the way to the bottom, the captain can control the entire ship from here - especially in combat. Outside of combat, it's doubles as hangar control, with a good view of the hangar's interior. Head here if you want, but don't expect anyone to listen to you if you start giving orders.

Security: ModerateLocation: In the exact center of the ship, right above the hangar.Damage: None.Repair: It's totally fine.People of interest:

Mostly dead from when the main bridge got wrecked. You can talk to the acting captain, though.

Havor Maluk, Acting Captain

Research labs
The fact that these assholes haven't blown themselves up yet is a miracle to me. Even more of a miracle is the fact that they survived. What's not a miracle is how pissed they were to have their precious experiments tossed around when we landed. Fukcing scientists. I'm not convinced we're going to find a use for them anytime soon, but you never know. If you want to run by and say hi, be my guest. I don't give a shit. Maybe they'll find some kind of experiment to run on you.

Security: LowLocation: Near the bow of the ship, just in front of the armory, close to the top.Damage: Everything came loose and got thrown around. Right now they have a nice skylight. Atmo is semi-toxic, so they're in there in suits. Not too alien to them, I'm sure.Repair: It's breached. It's fairly high on the list of repairs, but we don't have time for it right now. People of interest:

Head of the Research Department

Head of Anomalous Materials Study

Janus Schernz, Head of Weapons Development

Sanya Nivola, scientist

VR combat simulators
Yes, we have them, even on an old rust bucket like this one. These are new, though - actually the newest part of this ship. We only have four chambers total, and each seats five people. Combat missions typically last anywhere from an hour to two minutes, depending on how fast the AI manages to kill them off. Captain Machellan mandated that they run 24/7, keeping the crew at least somewhat combat-capable. As a result, we managed to get everyone through here in groups of five, four times a year. Now, they sit idle. Just like you shitwads.

Security: LowLocation: Near the bow of the ship, toward the top.Damage: Offline; reason unclear. Potentially due to a power surge or disconnected conduit.Repair: Minor. Just needs the problem found and repaired. if you want to go crawling through the access tunnels looking for it, be my guest, but don't cut yourself to pieces doing it.People of interest:

VR Designer

Conference room
We used to do diplomatic crap in here. Now? Well, let's put it this way: Aliens talking to us? Like hell that'll happen. I plan to re-purpose this as a briefing room. It's in the most opportune position possible - near both the battle bridge and the hangars. You can't miss it even if you tried. ...well, most people couldn't, don't know about you morons.

Security: NoneLocation: Right above the hangar, just in front of the battle bridge.Damage: Extreme. My picture came off the wall, and from what I can tell on the cameras, the frame is destroyed and the paper may be bent. Some potted plants got smashed too, but they'll be fine.Repair: Please do.People of interest:

SCAMPS, acting second-in-command

Ship's Computer/Intelligence Center
A lot of shit goes down in here - a lot of highly classified shit thicker with red tape than your mom's attempted abortion. Yeah, we know about that. How? With the best damned intelligence squad this side of Shai'lin. A lot of them are dead, but who cares? It's not like we'll need them anytime soon. I'm not sure why you'd want to head this way, but go right ahead. The computer terminals are fine, but some of our computer mainframe was jostled just a mite too hard during the battle above Nanyej, so a lot of it is offline. Pick a booth and hope it works.

Security: NoneLocation: Toward the top of the ship, near engineering and the hangar.Damage: Not too bad. It's fairly well-protected. The computers themselves are damaged, though.Repair: It's not like you could fix any of it if you tried.People of interest:

Classified, probably

<<<Engineering>>>

Engineering is the lifeblood of a ship like the Nemesis - and we have more engineers on our roster than any other type of crew. They also get a third of the ship all to themselves - two thirds if you count the hangar. As a result, Engineering is not limited to any particular room. Just head towards the back of the ship and you'll find some part of it. Back there, we have the engines, the reactor, gravity generator... and me. My lasers are still fully functional, so try anything funny and I'll dice you into cubes.

Security: Low to moderateLocation: The entire rear third of the ship. I'll blindfold you and see if you can find it. If you can't, you go out an airlock... if we ever get back to space. I hate not having airlocks to throw people out of.Damage: As is typical in combat, Engineering was the hardest hit of most areas. It could use a lot of TLC, but most of it isn't anything you're capable of.Repair: There are some areas that could use repair of the variety you'd be capable of. Most of it isn't, though.People of interest:

Chief Engineer

Head of Hull Repair

Primary reactor core
Not sure why the hell you'd want to go here, but go right ahead. Keypads here (as in most areas) are DNA-locked; your chances of causing any damage are minimal, beyond a sledgehammer. Good luck finding one of those, though. Marvel at our technology and know that you're one of the select few to witness the shitty functioning of a half-baked, shabbily repaired reactor strained to its fukcing limits. You're three steps from oblivion.

Security: LowLocation: The rear core of the ship. Head to the center, then head straight back. If you miss it, you're a dumbass.Damage: Technically, none. Most of the damage is in the connecting conduits reaching throughout the ship. We're experiencing strange power drains; probably from mistakenly grounded wiring. We're working on it, don't worry.Repair: This is going to need more than you can handle.People of interest:

Lead Reactor Specialist

Engines
The ugliest part of the whole ship, even when the ship is shined up. The only people that go here are engineers, and only for routine maintenance. They're the only ones that can make sense of the mess of wiring and tubing that keeps us moving forward. There's no reason for you to come here, but it's not like you're going to damage anything, so why the hell not, right? It's not like anything else you do makes any sense.

Security: Low to moderateLocation: All the way at the back. Sometimes in the nacelles - or the surviving one, anyway. Nacelles are completely off-limits except to top staff. Why? We keep stuff in there that's classified as fukc. Even I'm not allowed access to the records.Damage: Extreme. Pretty much nothing works. The engineers shut it all down to keep it from blowing itself up. Fixing it is one of our top priorities, as per acting captain Maluk's orders.Repair: There's nothing you can do except get in the way.People of interest:

Lead Warp Engineer

Lead Engines Specialist

SCAMPS core
It's me, asshole. That's right, I'm a machine. Well, technically, I'm part machine. If you really want the grisly details, I'm a mass of brainmatter hooked up to various computers, all in a jar large enough to put your measly cryotubes to shame. True machine-based sentience is impossible; they figured that out early in the third millennia. That's why I'm here. The computers let me store more information than you've ever come across in your lifetime and let me interface directly with the ship. It's a shit life, but it's what I'm made for. If you're looking for someone to annoy, leave me alone and go talk to Dr. Janeway. She's the dipstick assigned to keeping me in shape, though she does a crappy job of it.

Security: LowLocation: Above the reactor core. There's nothing here to interest you.Damage: Do I sound damaged, asswipe? Use your fukcing brain if you have one.Repair: For the love of... NO, I do not need repaired! I'm perfectly fine. Goddamn. Leave me alone for FSM's sake.People of interest:

Dr. Merla Janeway, Lead Electrobiologist

Shield generator(CURRENTLY OFF-LIMITS)
It's gone. How gone? Gone enough that it's going to be a long time before we're generating shields again. First off we need to get this crapbox into space. Then they can rebuild the area where it used to be. If you want, you can talk to the Lead Shield Engineer. He's bound to be around here somewhere.

Security: Probably deadLocation: Some of it got jammed up under the ship when we slid over it. Some of it's probably still up in space, most of it burned up in atmo. You might even be breathing it. Sounds fun, am I right?Damage: What part of "gone" don't you understand? Let's start there.Repair: Shield generation is at least as complicated as rocket science, if not more so. If you don't have a degree and a long list of recommendations, don't bother.People of interest:

Lead Shield Specialist

Weapons systems(CURRENTLY OFF-LIMITS)
These are off-limits to all staff except the lead engineers and those directly assigned to them. Listen to what your mama told you, kid, and don't play with guns. One time we got someone sent down there by accident and he didn't correct the mistake. He melted a firing core in the middle of a battle. Fortunately, the meltdown took him with it. Fortunately for him, anyway - I would've done a lot worse if he'd survived.

Security: HighLocation: Everywhere. We have a lot of weapons.Damage: Yes, it deals a lot. Thank you for asking.Repair: If you try to help, you're likely to get shot. Please, be my guest. No, seriously, go right ahead. I won't stand in your way.People of interest:

Chief Weapons Officer

<<<Ruined areas>>>

Yeah, we were in a fight. I'm not gonna give you the full details myself. You can wrangle that out of whatever staff you manage to flag down. Long story short, we're fukced up pretty bad. We'll find someone to blame it on and kick their asses later, if we ever get back to Tartarus. In the meantime, you might be able to help repair these yourself, after the engineers get stuff back in order. It'll take a shit-ton of work, though. This isn't your typical crime stuff, either - this is brutal, dirty, blood-sweat-and-tears honest-to-god manual labor. I'm sure you're already leaving.

Main bridge(CURRENTLY OFF-LIMITS)
This used to be the prettiest part of the whole ship. Thick transparent metal alloy windows, a beautiful retro-style bridge, bunks for a small crew and ration dispensers. This was where commanders went when they wanted to fly the ship in style. Good for morale and shit. Also good for getting your asses blown into space if someone happens to mount a sneak attack - which they did, and their asses were spaced quite thoroughly, and in many little bits. This is where our captain and second in command died, and a lot of our primary staff. Most of what we have left have been reassigned. Eventually we might be able to fix the place up, but it's far from our top priority. At its best, it can even decouple itself from the ship and reach low warp speeds. Right now, it's welded to the outer hull with rivers of molten slag. Good luck decoupling that.

Location: Back of the ship, just behind the hangar, in a protrusion that gives it a nice, pretty view.Damage: Obliterated. At this point it won't even function as a closet. It looks like shit.Repair: More than we'll manage anytime soon, likely.People of interest: None

The medbay(CURRENTLY OFF-LIMITS)
Maybe you're not feeling tired - maybe you're just whining about feeling sick. Maybe you lost a leg or something. Get in line, kiddo, you've got a long wait ahead of you. Our doctors are stretched thin, and the medbay itself is basically gone. That has a tendency to happen when you land on it, so it's not entirely unexpected. We got the surviving docs out of there before it happened, so just head toward the lower rear of the ship under engineering and wait in the hallways like everybody else. The doctors will see you eventually. Probably, anyway.

Security: LowLocation: Just behind the hangar, under engineering... what's left of it.Damage: Severe. Basically torn away.Repair: Will require extensive (and expensive) repair. There's not much you can help with, and I doubt anyone on the ship would let you try.People of interest:

Chief Medical Officer

Lead Doctor

Lead Surgeon

Chief of Medical Research

Lead Bioengineer

The comm center(CURRENTLY OFF-LIMITS)
If you wanted to call home, forget about it. This area is in the bow of the ship near the bunks, was one of the worst hit, and, again, is basically gone. Starting to see a pattern here? I thought you might. Eventually we'll get a comm center of some sort back up, but it'll be shit for a while - certainly too shit for hypercomm systems. That stuff costs money. Finding that money will likely be your job. We'll also need encryption systems and new sensors. The whole place has gone to shit... kind of obvious if you remember we were actually desperate enough to try to wake you from cryo. None of the people we have left are expendable, except you.

Security: NoneLocation: Up in space somewhere, and partly in the dirt behind us.Damage: As much as a nonexistent area can be damaged.Repair: Yeah, you can't help with this one. I mean, it's basically gone, so... it's not like it just needs a fresh coat of paint.People of interest:

Encryptions Lead

Communications Lead

Lead Comm Array Specialist

Lead Sensor Array Specialist

Lead Data Decryption Specialist

Library(CURRENTLY OFF-LIMITS)
Pretty place for reading books - or was, before they all got blasted into scraps of paper. We actually had some real books here. Genuine paper. No, really, Captain Machellan had some kind of fetish for the things. Don't know why we spared the expense. Anyway, it's a wreck of molten, radioactive slag now. We're lucky we didn't lose our lead librarian, or our computer-based storage data. We can still fix everything in the ship and we have knowledge of most of the area... but you'll need to head to the battle bridge. That's where our librarian has taken up shop.

Security: NoneLocation: Front of the ship, with most of the other shit.Damage: I'm sure the casualty of books is beyond count. I don't give a flying crap, but maybe you will.Repair: If you just want a cozy place to read a book, find an empty hallway. This one's not getting fixed until the hull is repaired.People of interest:

Anelle Maliese, Chief Librarian

Rec zones(CURRENTLY OFF-LIMITS)
If you wanted to settle an argument, this was the "official" place to do it, typically with ping-pong or space hockey, Galactica, EX-COMM, other shit arcade games and the like. Even had a small theater. Morale and shit. Well, it's gone, and morale is shit, so I guess it did its job. Was on the bow, but being on the edges, they took some of the worst damage. Most of them breached early on, and the others breached during re-entry. If you wanted to play skee-ball, you've got a long wait ahead of you.

Security: NoneLocation: Front of the ship where a lot of the hull breaches areDamage: Does the word "gone" mean anything to you? I'd say "breach", but I'm honestly concerned you might somehow manage to confuse it with pants.Repair: After the hull is repaired you can probably fix the rest of the place yourself. A lot of the garbage is still intact, mostly.People of interest: None

Chapel(CURRENTLY OFF-LIMITS)
I'm sure some of you asswipes believe in a higher power. For those of you that don't believe it's me, here's where you would've gone to get out of my hair for a while and talk to yourself. I don't really care about the shit that happened here, but it kept morale and productivity higher, which is good... except it's totally gone now, destroyed beyond hope of timely repair. Back when it was operational it had accommodations for all the major gods (and some of the minor ones), but now? It's a hole in the hull, and thus off-limits. My heart bleeds for you, truly.

Security: NoneLocation: Front of the ship where a lot of the hull breaches areDamage: Holy hell, do you even speak galactic standard? It's obliterated, dumbass, that's why it's in the "ruined areas" section. Grow a brain for Kris's sake.Repair: As non-existent as my belief in FSM. ...Actually that's a bit harsh. Part of the chapel is still there, but I mean, come on, do you really want to worship in a hole in the ground? After we get the hull patched you might fix the place up yourself, but not until.People of interest:

((The people that are awake are all in the same room - a currently-empty storage room just outside the remaining engine nacelle. There are doctors in there and a few other people. You can start talking to each other right off the bat, or if you don't feel like talking with each other, get up and go take a look around.))

Get out of the crowded room full of my cryomates.Follow the smell of rations, dissatisfaction and angst towards the front of the ship. ((Go to the cafeteria.))

Pick up and set straight a chair and a few tables.Get some food and the strongest drink they have, even if it's tea. Be disappointed if it's just water.Sit down at one of the tables on the chair I set straight earlier.Check my pocket for my flash drive.Dine.Mentally insult the food.

(( Hello everyone! (Who made it in) If anyone needs lemons, he shall remain at his table in the cafeteria. Not going to be very social though, that one. ))

Frank, hit by every symptom the computer just listed, lies on the ground with a hand over his eyes to shield them from the horrible glare the lamps emit.
Headache, nausea, pain. Everything and more.

And there's also that maniac who talks about grabbing food and alcohol. Not making things better...

Trying to speak up, Frank finds some difficulties with this usually easy task, probably from the time he spent in cryo. Couldn't be healthy.
After some groaning and coughing, he managed to raise his voice enough to be audible.

"Sorry lad, but I'd prefer if you wouldn't mention those things yet. I feel like throwing up already even without the prospect of eating something."

Holy FSM, my head hurts. And if I had any food in me, I think I'd be seeing it a second time. I haven't felt this horrible in a long time...I think. I idly wonder just what year it is but decide it isn't worth worsening my headache over. Besides, that female voice over there just asked what year it was...

Wait. I hear something familiar. I know that one guy from somewhere- the one who sounds as bad as I am. I actually decide to expend the brainpower needed to figure this one out. I sit there for a moment and wrack my brain before it begins to come back to me- it's Frank, from the VR battle! It feels like an eternity since then and at the same time like it just happened. It's not a feeling I like.

I decide to power through the general malaise I feel and speak up. I manage a pitiful croaking noise the first couple of times but finally manage to force words out.

"Frank?" I croak, cringing at how terrible I sound. "Is that you?"

I don't give him the chance to respond before managing to open my eyes and confirm that it is indeed him- along with a good number of similarly pitiful-looking people slumped on the floor.

Loud booming voice"Don't worry about a thing, Stamps! i will personally go to the conference room to fix up your picture! It's in good hands now. Perhaps if I have the time, I can add my own bit of decorative flair to it after I'm done."

Head off towards towards the conference room, greeting everyone I pass (Brom style, of course.)
Once there, walk over to, and pickup SCAMPS's picture.
With SCAMPS's picture in hand, sit down at the nearest table, and get to work on repairing it ((the picture, not the table.))

If repairs are successful, glance around the room for a pen, or other writing tool, and tell SCAMPS
"Another job well done by the great Brom Keegan! You were right to wake me, SCAMPS! You're going to love having me around."

Head to the cafeteria, probably get lost along the way
Order a bucket of fried chicken and some whiskeyif no whiskey is available
-Order any other kind of alcoholic drink
Food and drink in hands, head out of the cafeteria and look at the area signs, contemplating which one sounds the most interesting
Think: "Maybe them scientists are doing somethin' interesting in the labs"
Go to the research labs

It proofed almost impossible to bring even a semblance of order into his memories. At least without making that headache worse.
Short glimpses of a brightly lit interrogation room, a sunny market place bursting into flames, pain, a voice coming from the walls claiming absurd things, a stinging sensation in the neck, darkness.
Also -

Caleb wrote:"Frank?" I croak, cringing at how terrible I sound. "Is that you?"

Sounds of people leaving the room, loud talking and someone actually being able to yell something about a boss of theirs. And someone else speaking his Frank's name. This last voice sounded strange.

Flashes of the market again, a short view of someone going into cover, a policeman dieing next to Frank, despair...

A short suspicion.

"Can't be completely sure if I'm the right one, lad. But yes, name's Frank."
Taking a short moment to catch a fresh breath.
"You don't happen to have been at that market before, no?"

Frank slowly reaches around, trying to prop himself up. It takes a while but at least he's sitting now, still keeping his eyes closed though.

((Frank waves his hand in Caleb's general direction: "This is not the Janitor you're looking for." ))

Get out of the crowded room full of my cryomates.Follow the smell of rations, dissatisfaction and angst towards the front of the ship. ((Go to the cafeteria.))

Pick up and set straight a chair and a few tables.Get some food and the strongest drink they have, even if it's tea. Be disappointed if it's just water.Sit down at one of the tables on the chair I set straight earlier.Check my pocket for my flash drive.Dine.Mentally insult the food.

(( Hello everyone! (Who made it in) If anyone needs lemons, he shall remain at his table in the cafeteria. Not going to be very social though, that one. ))

((I thought we talked about this, but... "not going to be very social" isn't very interesting to yourself, the other players, the other characters, or myself. ))

You get shakily to your feet, noting, as you do, that the floor is tilted slightly. The hustle and bustle of this little makeshift medbay doesn't interest you; you'd rather just have a good drink and some food - you feel famished. A nurse grabs your arm as you head to the door, but you shrug her off without a glance and walk away. SCAMPS said you could go, anyway.

The hallways outside are rather drab, typical of a military spaceship. There are, at least, markers in the floor to point you in the correct direction. Front of the ship, right? Well, that's where you'll go.

~~~

The walk to the front of the ship isn't too long, but rather boring. People rush past you without so much as questioning who you are. Many of them are holding data pads, concentrated on one problem or another, others are talking on earpieces about different problems they're working on. Most of them are engineers.

When you do finally arrive at the mess hall, you're greeted with the rather unwelcome sight of dozens of tables and chairs dashed against the wall. For a moment you're worried you won't be able to find any food, but then notice that the serving counter still has someone standing behind it - a middle-aged woman with straggled, wavy gray-brown hair, trying to push some kind of culinary machine into an upright position. You get her attention by knocking on the countertop.

She jumps, inhaling sharply, and almost drops the appliance she's holding. "I'll be with you in just a minute," she says tersely.

It's actually less than a minute before she makes it back to the counter. "What can I get for you?"

~~~

It's not long before you're sitting at a table you've re-erected, with a dry ration bar and a flask of mediwater - basically a cheap energy drink, and only just agreeable. In short, the food is shit. You insult it mentally, and take the opportunity to check your inventory. Your flash drive is, surprisingly, in one of your pockets, you find - as is... a datapad. You've never seen it before.

Hold on, a century?? It can't be a century, I wanted to go home after this..."

I get the attention of the nearest doctor, and ask them what year it is.

((You and the other characters have also heard SCAMPS say the information in green text in the main thread, so you have some idea of what's going on. We'll say you're a bit disoriented.))
Your head throbbing, you grab the arm of the nearest doctor, a balding man with glasses. "Excuse me," you ask, "What year is it?"

He glances at you patiently - or as patiently as someone who's gone a few days without sleep could, anyway. "It's 3152," he informs you.

Loud booming voice"Don't worry about a thing, Stamps! i will personally go to the conference room to fix up your picture! It's in good hands now. Perhaps if I have the time, I can add my own bit of decorative flair to it after I'm done."

Head off towards towards the conference room, greeting everyone I pass (Brom style, of course.)
Once there, walk over to, and pickup SCAMPS's picture.
With SCAMPS's picture in hand, sit down at the nearest table, and get to work on repairing it ((the picture, not the table.))

If repairs are successful, glance around the room for a pen, or other writing tool, and tell SCAMPS
"Another job well done by the great Brom Keegan! You were right to wake me, SCAMPS! You're going to love having me around."

You head off toward the conference room, assuring the good doctors that you are not only fine, you're feeling enormously well and more than fit to wrestle a bear with your eyes closed... in not so many words. Fortunately, there aren't any bears around to test that against... right?

As you follow the signs on the drab floors, you realize that the conference room is actually on the same floor as you started on. This makes things easier. It isn't long before you arrive, and you even manage to offer a few passersby the priveleged opportunity to make your acquaintance along the way.

The conference room is a rather large chamber with a long table bolted to the floor, right down the middle of it... for conferences, obviously. It's probably the nicest room you've seen so far (granted, you've only seen two), but it's in disarray. As your PDA suggested, several potted plants are busted, and most of the picture frames have fallen off the wall. The chairs are all overturned and dashed against the front wall - presumably the front of the ship.

After some searching, you manage to find what you assume is SCAMPS' picture. It's a large sheet about two meters across, decorated a big mass of brain matter and electronics in a tank with lots of bound cable clusters and pipes leading to and from it. You gently dislodge it from the surrounding debris and begin to haul it to the table in the center of the room.

Head to the cafeteria, probably get lost along the way
Order a bucket of fried chicken and some whiskeyif no whiskey is available
-Order any other kind of alcoholic drink
Food and drink in hands, head out of the cafeteria and look at the area signs, contemplating which one sounds the most interesting
Think: "Maybe them scientists are doing somethin' interesting in the labs"
Go to the research labs

((Frank did actually answer your question - he basically said "Nope, not interested"))
Getting to your feet and clutching your head from what feels like the worst hangover you've ever dealt with, you stagger from the room and start looking around for the mess hall.

It's at least thirty minutes before you realize that the endless maze of corridors and rooms actually has directions to different primary areas on the floor.

~~~

The mess hall is fairly underwhelming (although the pile of chairs and tables that have been ripped from the floor is actually rather impressive). There's someone eating in here already - some guy with a spiky blond haircut - but you ignore him and head to the serving counter, behind which a middle-aged woman is trying to clean up some kind of orange liquid spilled across the floor. It takes you a minute to get her attention, but when you finally do, it startles her; she slips and falls on her face. "Just a minute," she groans out, trying to get back to her feet.

It isn't long before she's at the counter and ready to help you, wiping a bit of the orange fluid off her prominent jaw. "What can I get you?"

"A bucket of fried chicken and whiskey," you state, quite sure of yourself.

She hesitates, looking at you quietly for a moment. "We don't have that."

"Okay, no whiskey? That's fine, that's fine," you say. "Scotch?"

"Um... no."

"Vodka?"

"Nope."

You run through the list. Gin, rum, malts, lagers, beer, and others are given a negative. Starting to feel desperate, you're just about to ask for a hard lemonade when she finally says, "We don't have any of that. Our food stores got breached during the battle. We only have rations, water, and mediwater now, and that's mostly all we had before, too. We're even low on rations." She gives you a sincerely apologetic frown as she places these on the counter before her.

Disgruntled, you take them in hand and leave, annoyed at the whole situation. The loud roaring of fighters somewhere outside and the flickering of the lights doesn't do much to help either.

~~~

The research labs are... well, more of a mess than you've seen anything else. Most of the research equipment seems to be smashed, and although a small army of labcoated scientists are working to get it back in working order, the gaping hull breach above (that goes through multiple floors) looks like it's going to keep it from actually being operational for a while. They've at least managed to stretch some kind of plastic sheeting across the breach, so there's breathable air, at least.

Stare at the floor, and try to come to terms with being a century older yet staying the same age.Center self on one of the floor tiles.

Take stock of the other people in the room with me.

((It's potentially much less than a century. SCAMPS doesn't know how long you've been there, he's just a jerk.))
You look about the metal-lined room. It seems to be some kind of empty storage area, given the bare shelving on the wall. There are some makeshift benches (former shelves?) on the floor where some of your cryo-mates are, and around them doctors seem to be hard at work on making their vitals are okay. A couple of nurses are checking on you and talking about your vitals, even as you sit there.

The room shakes and the light flickers; one of the shelves on the far wall comes loose on one end and falls sideways. A distant crash echoes through the structure. Seems that wherever the Nemesis is, crashing hasn't stopped it from coming under attack.

((You and the other characters have also heard SCAMPS say the information in green text in the main thread, so you have some idea of what's going on. We'll say you're a bit disoriented.))
Your head throbbing, you grab the arm of the nearest doctor, a balding man with glasses. "Excuse me," you ask, "What year is it?"

He glances at you patiently - or as patiently as someone who's gone a few days without sleep could, anyway. "It's 3152," he informs you.

"Thanks..."Loscadh is dó ort, metalbrain, that's 4 years, not a century...

When Bob sees Saoirse, he runs over to her, hugs her an lifts her from the ground. "SAOIRSE-BOSS, YOU LIVE, BOB LIVE TO!"
Put Saoirse back down.
"Bob's belly feels funny and head does auch."

I hug Bob back.
"Hey Bob! Glad I'm not alone here." *grin*
"Yes, you're not alone in that - my head feels like the time I accidentally reversed the battery of my psi amp...
Wanna get some food to feel better?"

If Bob is inclined to follow, I head to the mess hall and ask for pudding.
When they inevitably have no pudding, I ask for a vegetarian ration instead.

Last edited by Dinosawer on Sun Jul 02, 2017 1:37 pm, edited 1 time in total.